


Forever (†) Inferno

by Jazzmania_Chronicle_JHAnthonie



Series: Forever!verse Trilogy [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Ghost Rider (Comics), My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Equestria (MLP), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anthro, Anthropomorphic Ponies, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Fighting, Crossover, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Drug Withdrawal, Drug lords, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fantasy Violence, Friends to Lovers, Frightening & Intense Scenes, Gang Violence, Human, Humans Coexisting with Other Creatures, Mental Illness, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Organized Crime, PTSD, Possibile Sex & Nudity, Robbie Reyes | Ghost Rider, Thriller, Vigilantism, Violence & Gore, anthropomorphic creatures, drugs & alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazzmania_Chronicle_JHAnthonie/pseuds/Jazzmania_Chronicle_JHAnthonie
Summary: {AU!} In a world where humans and ponies have lived together for hundreds of years, an infamous vigilante wreaks havoc on the streets of New Los Angeles. Police try to get a hold of the situation but when a loved one is put in the hospital, a young mare takes matters into her own hands. And then the unexpected happens...or...{AU!} Amid an East New Los Angeles neighborhood running wild with gang violence and crazed drug lords, two individuals wage war in the criminal underworld. May vengeance reign supreme!(This is a crossover between MLP and the All-New Ghost Rider series featuring Robbie Reyes)





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have rewritten the prologue. I hope you enjoy this version more than the last one.

_I made a lot of mistakes in my life….I’m the first to admit that. I got into fights, I dropped out of school, I attended street races...But none of that compares to the feeling of truly screwing up…_

_Especially, that night...._

_It was just supposed to be another street race, an easy win. It was just me and my_ hermanito _, cruising along the streets in the Charger. I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing him with me. I knew those races were dangerous but I just wanted him to loosen up, to have some fun. But in the end, it all went to hell…_

 _They came out of nowhere, those fucking Fifth Street_ ratas _. One minute, my brother and I were sitting at a red light and the next, the gang is showering us with bullets. I tried to get away, to get to safety but the only thought running through my mind was that my brother was going to die...because of me…_

_What happened next was a blur. The Charger crashed and I was thrown from the car, the Fifth Street speeding down the road. I was dead the moment I hit the ground. It felt like death, at least. I surrounded by darkness, can’t see...can’t move. I could barely hear the sound of my brother calling out to me. I thought it was over…_

_But then a voice called out to me. It said that it didn’t have to end this way. I could punish those who hurt my brother, pay penance for my sins. All I had to do was say yes...and I said, “yes”. If I knew back then what I know now, I would’ve chosen death. But I couldn’t leave my brother...I couldn’t let him pay for my mistakes…_

Hermano _...forgive me..._


	2. One: Hillrock Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I can feel the heat rising. Everything is on fire.  
> Today is a painful reminder...” - Eminem, Beautiful Pain

**Chronicle Residence.**

**Sunshine Apartments,**

**East New Los Angeles.**

 

Jazzmania’s alarm clock started to scream. All it took to shatter the peace was the one small, cacophonous machine. She groaned as she proceeded to snuggle deeper into the covers, trying her best to block out the noise. When the clock refused to cease its blaring, she snatched it from her bedside table and flung it over her head, her frustration at its peak. 

There was a loud thud from above before everything finally went silent. Jazzmania savored the tranquility for a few moments before she slowly sat up. She rolled her shoulders, her joints making a small pop. As she rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes, her lion-like tail slithered out from under the covers and scooped up a pair of glasses.

She slipped them on and immediately noticed the bits of plaster on her bedsheets. She looked up and sure enough, a new hole was now taking residence in her ceiling. She grimaced.

Hopefully, that didn’t disturb the people living on the floor above.

Jazzmania got up and walked over to her adjacent bathroom, sidestepping laundry and discarded shoes along the way. Upon entering the room, the first thing she saw was her reflection. It depicted a young Unicorn mare with a brown coat and golden-yellow eyes. She wore nothing but a baggy hoodie and underwear, black mane askew. She pulled off the hoodie and turned so her back faced the mirror.

As she stared at what decorated her back, shoulders, and neck, she let out a small sigh.  She didn’t know what she expected to see. Did she really hope that they would just suddenly disappear? She chuckled humorously. She knew for a fact that they would never disappear. Scars never did. 

They slashed across her skin, each one criss-crossing over another one. She even had a few cuts on her arms and hands as well. And just like yesterday and the day before, they showed no signs of fading.

She pushed her hair out of her face and turned on the sink’s faucet. As she began to wash her face and brush her teeth, her torn left ear twitched slightly. The TV in the living room was on, which signalled that her younger siblings were up as well. Before she finished cleaning up, she looked into the mirror once again and practiced a few smiles.

She settled on one that looked pretty convincing and then stepped out of the bathroom. She rummaged through a pile of clothes on the floor, and pulled out a tank top and a pair of shorts. She sniffed them to ensure that they were clean and quickly put them on.

She walked out of her bedroom with her boots and phone in hand, closing the door behind her. As she made her way, to the front of the apartment, she could now clearly hear what was being said on the TV. The anchorman was retelling important events that have took place earlier that week. 

“...Ambassadors Lyra Heartstrings and Vijay Nadeer have returned from the Zebralands to announce the successful signing of the Truce. This marks a special day in our history, for the zebra and pony communities have been on shaky ground for quite some time…”

Jazzmania’s younger sister, Jac was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, a bowl of cereal in her lap. She was a pale yellow Unicorn with a curly orange mane. Headphones covered her ears, her head bobbing to the music. She held up her hand as her older sister passed, the two giving each other a high five in greeting.

When Jazzmania entered the kitchen area, where the aroma of toasted bread and coffee were the strongest, her other sister, Terra was already sitting at the small table. Like Jac, the pale grey Unicorn was still dressed in her pajamas. Her pink eyes were focused on the small notebook laying in front of her when her sister came in, silently writing a few notes. Terra smiled up at her, the older mare smiling back.

Walking over to the counter, Jazzmania opened one of the cupboards above the sink and pulled out a small bottle of pills. She also took out a coffee mug with the words “I’m a Recovering Cynic” on its front. Jac had gotten her the mug as a joke. She then took a seat across from Terra and helped herself to some orange juice.

The three siblings sat in silence, the only sounds being the TV and Jac’s loud chewing. It was...peaceful, to put it simply. However, the peace suddenly died when sirens resounded from outside the windows. Terra quirked an eyebrow, adjusting her small round glasses.

“You think it’s another mugging?” she asked.

“That or another Pegasus got caught speeding. It’s hard to say,” Jazzmania replied. She popped a pill into her mouth and washed it down with her tangy beverage.

“Right...right…,” Terra trailed off for a moment. Her hands started to fidget. “Sooo...did you know that crime is almost nonexistent in Canterlot?”

“Hmm, really now…”

“Yes, I read it somewhere in the Equestrian Daily. Of course, it’s not as nonexistent as it is in Ponyville or Rock County.” 

Jazzmania cracked a smile. “Well, that’s what you get with friendship preachers and rock farmers. You end up with peace and prosperity.”

“Hmm-mmm…” Terra began to drum her fingers rhythmically on the tabletop. The silence seemed to overwhelm the atmosphere for a few moments. “Wow, wonderful weather we’re having today. The Weather Patrol is really--.”

“You can stop with the small talk, Terra. Just say what’s really on your mind.” Jazzmania took another sip from her mug.

Terra clammed up immediately before she adjusted her glasses again. It was time for the elephant in the room to be properly addressed. She looked to her sister.

“As you already know, I’ve been trying to sale the house for about a year now and have been unsuccessful.”

Jazzmania took another sip. “Yes, I know.”

“Well, the real estate agent called. He may have found someone interested.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Another sip.

“It is,” Terra began fidgeting with her hands again. “But he suggested I be present when he shows the house to the buyers. And…I would like you to come with me.”

Jazzmania suddenly paused mid-sip, her brightly colored eyes staring intensely at her sister. Terra did her best not to shrink away from her gaze. Jac lowered the volume down on the television as she looked at her sisters, prepared to intervene if necessary. Jazzmania sat down her mug.

“I don’t know, Terra.”

“Big sis, I’m not asking you to move back there. I’m just asking for a short visit. That’s all.” 

“I know that,” Jazzmania looked away, trying to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. “I just don’t think I’m ready.”

“But it’s been almost six years, Jazzmania. You’ve been doing so much better since then. You haven’t had any night terrors and you’re getting along great with Dr. Bradford. He said so himself.”

Jazzmania’s hands tightened around her mug, her horn giving a small spark. She got up from the table, heading for the living room. She stopped to turn back to her sister. 

“I’m aware that it’s been six years, lil sis. I’m just not ready,” she looked away from a moment before giving a small smile. “But I’ll think about it, okay?”

Terra stared at her before sighing deeply. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. But she let go nonetheless. “Sure, big sis. As long as you think about it.”

“You know I love you, right?” Jazzmania asked, making her way to the living room.

“I know. I love you too,” Terra smiled softly as she went to writing in her book.

When Jazzmania took a seat on the couch, Jac turned to her, the headphones now around her neck. _Are you okay_ , she mouthed.

Jazzmania nodded silently, taking another drink from her mug. Jac stared at her for a moment before getting up from her spot, her bowl empty. Finishing her mug of orange juice, Jazzmania looked back at her sisters.

Anyone who wasn’t close to them would never have guessed that the two were actually twins - fraternal twins. Not only were they different in appearance, they were also different in personality. As Jac made herself another helping of cereal, she accidentally spilled some onto the tabletop, droplets almost falling onto the notebook. Terra chastised her to be more careful, her twin sticking out her tongue in return.

Jazzmania smiled once more, this one warm and true. She really loved her sisters. The memory of scars clouded her mind for a brief moment before her smile turned grim. She couldn’t fathom what would happen if she suddenly lost them as well…

Her left ear swiveled toward the TV, picking up what was being said. Her attention seized, she turned up the volume. An anchor-pony was reporting the details of a police investigation that was taking place in the East NLA area. Beside them was live video footage of what was happening. It showed a montage of frustrated detectives, noisy reporters, and raging civilians. The caption underneath read:

DEATH AT GINGER ALE’S

_“...In other news, a pony was found dead in front of Ginger Ale’s Liquor House early this morning…”_

“Hey, sis, are you eating anything before you head out because if...you…?” Terra trailed off as she came into the room. The video footage now showed the close-up of a corpse. Before the EMTs zipped the body up in a body bag, they caught a glimpse of its charred and bloodied state.

“Holy shit.” Jac had also came into the room, a disturbed look tainting her once jovial blue eyes. Terra covered her mouth in shock. Jazzmania said nothing.

_“...The police haven’t given any information on the nature of the situation but it appears to be the workings of Hilrock Heights’ very own vigilante, the Ghost Rider…”_

The footage was then replaced by a snapshot of what looked like graffiti art. It illustrated a black car bursting through a wall of glass, its wheels and BDS blower set on fire. In the driver’s seat was a man dressed all in black with a fiery chain wrapped around his chest. Lastly, his face was a skull engulfed in a hellish blaze, which made the image look even more terrifying.

To Jazzmania, the creature’s glowing red eyes were the most intriguing.

_“...If anyone has any information that could help find this brutal killer, we urge you to contact your local authorities. You may be saving a life.”_

 

* * *

**Ginger Ale’s Liquor House.**

**Hilrock Heights,**

**East New Los Angeles**

 

When Jude Ramirez got the call about Ginger Ale’s, he had been passed out at his work desk, a pile of paperwork overwhelming his space. By the time he got to the site, it was already a chaotic mess. Civilians - pony, human, and creature alike - were standing behind the yellow police tape, panic-stricken and angry. There were a few reporters in the crowd as well, each one as gluttonous for new information as the next.

Jude groaned as he leaned back in his driver’s seat, headache starting up in his head. He could already tell that this was going to be a shitshow. 

He got out of the car and made his way through the crowd. The reporters immediately bombarded him with questions but they were all met with a harsh, “No comment”. When he made it past the yellow tape, two individuals of the EMS team were already wheeling the body out of the alley on a stretcher. However, before they could load it onto the ambulance, he stopped them. He unzipped the bag and took a good look at the body.

Whoever this pony was, he had met a very gruesome and horrific end. The entire body was burnt to a crisp. Its face was frozen in a scream, lips shriveled up and teeth blackened. The eye sockets were empty and its chest looked like it have been caved in. It was the most sickening sight Jude has ever seen thus far...and Jude had seen a lot in his time with the NLAPD.

“Detective Ramirez!” He turned around to see an Earth Pony detective from his precinct run up to him. The badge around his neck read, _Sharpshooter_. 

“What’s the situation?” Jude asked, his voice hoarse with exhaustion but he kept a straight face. 

“The body was found in the back alley, behind some dumpsters. Due to the lack of forensic evidence, we determine that this isn’t the original kill site.”

 _Made sense so far_ , Jude thought silently. _If the victim had been killed here, there would be more blood splatters…_

“Did you find anything regarding the victim’s identity?”

“Yes, name is Short Circuit, age thirty, Earth Pony stallion. We found his wallet and ID in the trash.”

Jude paused. That was definitely new. Usually, it took them awhile to determine a victim’s identity since any identification would've been either burned up or missing. He waited a few moments before speaking. “Tell me, was this another victim of the Ghost Rider?”

“Um...” Sharpshooter hesitated, a trace of uncertainty in his eyes. “We aren’t entirely sure yet but it does seem that way. Of course, the Medical Examiner will have to see if the cause of death was of magical means or if the body was just doused in gasoline and set on fire.”

“Yes, of course,” Jude responded, though he already had an idea of  the cause of death. This was the Ghost Rider’s turf after all…

“Who discovered the body?” he continued.

“The owner, Ginger Ale came across it when he was coming in through the back. A waitress was with him but she left already; she was pretty distraught.”

“That’s understandable.” Jude gestured toward the bar’s entrance. “Is the owner still here?”

“Yeah, he’s in there, alright. He’s been on our asses ever since we got here. Says we’re costing him money - never mind the fact that a dead body was found literally at his backdoor.”

Jude pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing. It’s been only ten minutes and already he was dying for a drink. Maybe Ginger Ale had some to spare.

Sharpshooter stared at him. “You alright, Ramirez?”

Jude quickly straighten up, hoping deep down that his poker face was somewhat convincing. “Yes, I’m fine. I'm going to go ahead and interview the owner. Anything else?” 

The Earth stallion shook his head and with that, Jude made his way into the bar.

The inside of the establishment was dimly-lit and empty, soccer reruns playing on the TVs. Standing behind the bar, wiping a white rag across the countertop, was Ginger Ale himself. He was a burly, old stallion with a grey-streaked green mane and a coat the color of pure ginger. He had a irritated look on his face, obviously unamused about the current situation.

He was speaking with a creature that Jude didn’t recognize.

He appeared to be a changeling, carapace a light blue and orange reflectionless eyes. But he had a pony-like tail and pegasus wings. A half-breed no doubt. His webby purple mane was pulled into a messy man bun.

“Yeah, I knew the guy,” Ginger Ale said irritably. “He came in every Friday night. Now are you done asking questions? Because if you are, I gotta…”

He trailed off when he spotted Jude. “Who’re you?”

Jude pulled out his badge. “I’m Detective Sergeant Jude Ramirez. I am the lead detective working this case.”

“Good,” Ginger Ale grunted, eyes narrowing. “Maybe you can tell this one to screw off. He’s been asking me questions for the past fifteen minutes.” 

“Sir, I was just following procedure,” the half-breed replied,  a bit of exasperation creeping into his tone. He turned to Jude and held out his hand, a big smile on his face. In Jude’s opinion, it was a little too big. “Detective Ramirez, I’m Flik Arachne. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Jude slowly shook Arachne’s hand, getting a good look at his attire. Arachne wore a two-piece navy blue suit, impeccable and clean. He was obviously trying to impress. Jude felt his headache getting stronger. In his opinion, the most annoying people were the ones trying to impress.

“Likewise,” Jude replied after a few moments. “Are you new to this precinct? I’ve never seen you around before.”

Arachne nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I just recently transferred from Canterlot. To tell you the truth, this is my first time being in NLA. Never really gotten around to enjoying it.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe I will, once we start working to together.”

“I’m sorry, working together?” Jude asked, confused.

Arachne stared at him for a moment before his eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know yet. I’m your new partner.”

Jude suddenly froze, his headache getting stronger. “What?”

“Your new partner,” Arachne repeated. “The Chief assigned me to you. Chief Bright-Hide?”

Jude’s fists tightened. Chief Bright-Hide...that insidious, oversized cow… Deep down, Jude knew sooner or later he would be assigned a new partner but he didn’t expect it to be this soon. It hadn’t even been a year since…

No matter, he’ll deal with it later.

“Hey, are you two done?” Ginger Ale demanded. He had moved on to cleaning drinking glasses. “I gotta open this place up pretty soon. And when are you taking down that damn police tape? You asswipes are scaring away my regulars!” 

Jude cleared his throat, quickly turning back to the bartender. “I deeply apologize, Mr. Ale, but we…still have a few questions to ask you.”

Ginger Ale groaned in frustration. “Look, the suit here already questioned me. What more is there to ask?”

“Yes, but you are talking to me now,” Jude said patiently, his headache ebbing away. “And I would really appreciate your full cooperation. The sooner we get through this, the sooner you can continue serving drinks to frat boys and veteran alcoholics. Sound good?”

Ginger Ale looked to Arachne who just shrugged in return. The old stallion sighed.

“Fine, shoot.”

“You told the responding officers that you knew the victim, correct?” Jude inquired.

“Yeah, like I told this guy over here, Short Circuit was one of my regulars. Always comes in every Friday, orders a club soda every time.”

“Did he ever come in with anyone?”

“No, the guy kept to himself. He would sit at the end of the bar away from everybody.”

Jude continued, “Yesterday was Friday. Did he come in?”

“Yeah, along with all the others who got paid on Fridays. And?”

“Well, did you notice anything strange about his behavior?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Ginger Ale paused. “Well...he did look a little shaken up. He ordered a couple of shots of vodka instead of his usual club soda. And on top of that, he kept looking back at the door like he was expecting someone to come bursting in at any moment.”

“Remember anything else?” 

“Yeah, after an hour or two, his phone went off. He look at it for a few seconds, paid for his drinks, and left.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?”

“That’s right,” Ginger Ale answered. “That is until I found him this morning, dead at my backdoor.”

“Right.” Jude thought for a moment. “One more question: do you have any idea why he was dumped here in your back alleyway?”

“Haven’t the slightest idea.” Ginger Ale threw the rag onto his shoulder. “Now are we here or what?”

Jude nodded. “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ale. We’ll try to get out of your mane as soon as possible.”

“Good.” But before Jude had the chance to turn and leave, Ginger spoke up again, “Hey, does this have something to do with that Hilrock Heights vigilante? Because Short Circuit seemed like a straight up guy to me.”

“We can't give out any information at this time. I hope you understand,” Jude replied.

“I do, it's just that…” Ginger Ale trailed off. “This used to be a safe neighborhood, you know. Now ever since that… ‘Ghost Rider’ showed up, everything has gone to hell. I hope you find him.

Jude nodded. _So do I…_

 

* * *

  **NLA County Metro.**

**Hilrock Heights,**

**East New Los Angeles**

 

Riding the bus was somewhat peaceful to Jazzmania. She would usually just put in her earbuds and listen to some soothing music, cutting off the outside world. She was able to forget about her problems during these times. But today was different.

As she sat in her usual seat in the back, instead of listening to music, Jazzmania fiddled with something in her lap. It was a small golden pocket watch attached to a silver chain. Etched onto its surface were various designs, one of them being the infinity symbol. She stared at the symbol longingly. 

This was a gift given to her by her father.

She clenched the small device in her fist. It's been a while since she’d thought about her father, or even her mother. She would try, now and then, to reminisce about the good times. Unfortunately, those good times would often be clouded by the bad ones.

She thought back to what Terra had said to her earlier that morning.

 _“...it’s been almost six years, Jazzmania. You’ve been doing so much better since then…”_  

Even though that statement did rang true, Jazzmania couldn’t shake the feeling of despair, anger, and grief from her being. She tried to fix it with therapy, coping skills, and pills but nothing seemed worked. It all just made her feel numb. Of course, her sisters didn’t know that. 

They believed that she was moving on, that she was finally reverting back to her old self. They didn’t know that it was getting harder and harder for her to get out of bed each morning. They didn’t see through her false smiles. They didn’t know how sometimes she wished that her heart would stop beating.

She would like to keep it that way. 

She looked up just in time to see that the bus had stopped next to an old brick building. Painted on the side facing her was a large mural, urban graffiti art no doubt. It depicted a man dressed in black leathers with a flaming skull for a head. It depicted the Ghost Rider.

Surrounding the picture were several spray-painted skulls. They seemed to mean something. Before the bus drove off down the street, Jazzmania found herself once again staring into those demonic red eyes. She didn’t know why but a feeling of dread began to crawl into her chest.

She forced that feeling down when she finally made it to her destination.

 

* * *

  **Downtown East New Los Angeles.**

**1:00 AM.**

 

The warehouse district was usually very quiet this time of night. Aside from late night deliveries and the occasional homeless individual, the massive structures sat calm and collected; silently waiting for the sun to bring about the morning activity. Tonight, however, was a different story.

Located in the heart of downtown East NLA, chaos ensued. 

A red glow shone through the windows of one of the warehouses. What was supposed to be a simple drug deal quickly turned into a hellish nightmare as a group of men ran out of the building in a terrified panic. Some of them even threw themselves out of windows. Before any of them could reach their vehicles, a fiery blaze blew out the warehouse metal doors.

The force of the blast threw everyone off of their feet, a few falling victim to the flames. A human male slowly picked himself up off the ground, gritting his teeth as pain shot up his right arm. He carefully pulled it close to his chest. It was definitely broken.

After his ears had finally ceased their ringing, he was bombarded by the sound of pain-stricken screaming, crackling flames, and the heavy scent of angry smoke. He grunted in pain as he was suddenly sucker-punched in the face. The impact forced him back onto the ground. His attacker stood over him, face contorted in a mixture of anger and fear.

“I TOLD YOU!” he shouted, his voice laced with hysteria. “I told you this would happen, you stupid son of a bitch! We were too close to Hilrock Heights. And now…”

It was in that moment that the air was assaulted by a raging, nightmarish roar. The men turned just in time to see a tall, hooded figure emerge from the burning building. He wore black leathers and gravel crunched underneath his boots. In his hands was a long and rusted chain, hooks hanging from the ends. A rectangular horseshoe symbol dominated his chest, and his face...was a skul engulfed in flames.

The Ghost Rider rolled his shoulders, a dark chuckle falling from his mouth as his chain turned red with heat.

“...we’re as good as dead…”

The rest of the fallen men quickly got to their feet and pulled out their guns. Gunfire instantly filled the air as speeding projectiles penetrated the Rider’s body. When they finally ran out of bullets, the Rider tightened his grip on the chain, reared his arm back, and snapped it like a whip. It looped around the neck of one of the men, a hook lodging itself under his chin.

The Rider pulled the chain hard and the sound of ripping flesh could be heard as the now lifeless body collapsed onto the floor. 

What happened next was like a domino effect. Men began scrambling away in terror, a few trying to reload their weapons. Before any of them could open fire, the Rider snapped his chain once again, the flaming metal slicing a man right down the middle. The sudden mess of crimson and viscera glistened wetly in the burning light. 

Another man took a wild swing at the Rider and missed, the hellish demon dodging away. He tried again and the Rider caught his fist in a tight grip. The man screamed in agony as his arm snapped, splintered bones stabbing through his skin. His cries quickly died on his lips when the chain suddenly wrapped around his neck.

He started gasping for air, the hot metal searing into his flesh. The Rider held him close to his face, malice swimming in his red eyes. Silently, the man pulled out a small switchblade and stabbed it into the Rider’s side. The Rider grunted in anger and with a violent snap, the man’s neck was instantly broken. 

It all went quiet, the only sounds being the flickering flames. The Rider then dropped the body, rolling his shoulders as bones cracked. He was expecting more of a fight from one of the toughest gangs in the East NLA area. To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

There was a soft groan and he turned to see one of the men still laying on the ground, cradling his injured arm. The Rider let out a vicious growl and made his way toward his next victim. The man looked up to see the hellish being closing in on him and, gritting his teeth, he slowly tried to crawl away. 

He barely made it two inches before a hard kick forced him back onto the ground. He weakly turned onto his side and looked up. The Rider was now standing over him, his chain hanging from his hands. 

“Please,” the man whispered, blood leaking from his mouth. “I don’t wanna die…”

The Rider laughed, as if he heard a joke instead of a plea for mercy. The man slumped in defeat as the Rider slowly raised his chain. But before he could deliver a fatal blow, a black Chevy SUV suddenly slammed into him, sending the Rider flying into a pile of debris.

The man looked up to see two of his comrades get out of the car and come his way. Hope suddenly  fluttered in his chest as he was helped into the vehicle, the three men speeding off into the night. The man laid into the backseat, praying that he and his friends live to see another day. However, a familiar thought nagged at the back of his brain.

_Once the Rider has you in his sights, you can never escape his wrath…_

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
